


From a Tiny Acorn

by Neon_Zephyr



Series: Riven Starlight [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neon_Zephyr/pseuds/Neon_Zephyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a teenager, Samuel Oak picked up a troublesome habit of reckless heroism. And, it's about to get him caught up in a conflict that will influence his path--and his family--for the rest of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From a Tiny Acorn

**Author's Note:**

> This is a spinoff fic, based on my main fic (Silver Blood, part 1 of this series). As suggested by the tags and summary, this is a two-shot centering around a relatively short adventure of Professor Oak, back when he was a teenager. As such, it obviously takes place several decades before the main fic, giving us a brief glimpse at how even Oak's past ties into the present day's struggles. 
> 
> As for reading order, I suggest reading this fic after reading at least through Chapter 27 (Harbors) of Silver Blood, though it's not totally required to understand this plot. 
> 
> [This fic is also a gift for two of my friends: brittana5 and another, whose AO3 name I will note here when I know it.]

The teenage boy stretched and flexed his hand for a long moment. He picked the pencil back up from the slight groove in the tree limb and returned his focus to the sketch he was working on.

            The rough, yet highly detailed picture depicted the Pokémon dozing in the nest mere inches away from where the teen lay flat against the tree branch.

            _I believe that those travelers yesterday called this guy a…a Rufflet?_ He thought to himself as he finished the detail of the large feather on the bird Pokémon’s head. He gently exhaled on the page to get rid of a few eraser shavings.

            The sleeping Rufflet fidgeted in his sleep slightly.

            The boy held his breath. The last thing he needed was for the Pokémon to wake up and react—likely loudly—to the stranger so close to his nest. 

            _I’m not done with this sketch yet._

He nearly leapt up and out of the tree when he felt light pressure against the top of his head. When it didn’t go away, he cautiously reached up and pulled a leaf out of his hair.

            _Oh._ He nearly laughed at his own paranoia. He pulled a strand of chestnut hair off the leaf before discarding both. He chuckled lightly.

            The Rufflet made a gentle _churring_ sound. The boy tensed again.

            The limb shook suddenly from some force behind the boy. He tensed, before slowly looking back at the large, red-and-blue bird Pokémon that had landed on the limb right behind him. The glare he was giving the boy was nearly enough to ignite the Pokémon’s white face feathers.

            “Oh, dear,” the boy muttered.

            The bird struck, grabbing the boy by his backpack and effortlessly lifted him out of the tree before dropping him. The boy could barely even shout before something broke his fall, knocking him over and causing him to roll slightly along the forest floor.

            Once he stopped rolling and his vision righted itself, he gradually forced himself to sit up. He looked at his sketchbook.

            “Oh, great,” he groaned. The page was crumpled, with a jagged tear running from one corner and through the feather detail. “There goes two hours of work.”

            “Are you shitting me?” A familiar voice asked.

            The boy looked over to the speaker. A girl—appearing to be roughly his age—was standing back up, rubbing at her back. She wore a beaten, dark purple long-sleeved shirt, her vest and pants made of a similar, deep brown fabric, both covered in pockets of varying sizes. A large, faded dark-green knapsack lay on the ground near her feet. She tossed her long, tight, blonde braid from its awkward resting place against her chest back over her shoulder behind her. She took a few steps in his direction, her heavy, tan hiking boots—probably a little too large for her from the way she walked—demanding the majority of his focus. When she stopped right in front on him, he cautiously looked up into her hazel eyes, flinching instantly under the death glare.

            “H-hey,” he stammered. “Small world, eh? Can’t believe I ran into you all the way out here—”

            “Samuel Oak, you unbelievable, little _bastard!_ ” She grabbed him by the collar of his white, button down shirt and pulled him up to her face to yell at him more directly. Her face sobered for a long moment. “Actually, I take that last one back. Mrs. Oak doesn’t deserve that type of insult. I’ll just settle on _dumbass_.” She pouted her lips for a moment, before scowling again. “I’d have something cleverer to call you, but my head’s still a little scrambled from apparently having a _concrete_ _brick_ dropped on it.”

            “You’re certainly in a mood, Agatha,” Sam observed.

            “Your powers of observation are stunning,” she said flatly. “But, I swear to Arceus, if I get _one more_ frantic letter from your mother saying she hasn’t heard from you in months, I’m going to have a new Ghost Pokémon on my team. I’m not your fucking babysitter! You’re fifteen now, so act like it.” She released her grip on him.

            “Your vocabulary still hasn’t improved.” Sam righted himself, dusting off his khakis.

            “It’s better than that stupid, scruffy _thing_ you call a ponytail,” she spat. “Damn thing’s not even two inches long, and it looks like an old makeup brush. Get a haircut, already!”

            Sam ignored her, picking up his sketchbook from the ground again.

            “Darn it,” he sighed to himself. “I really liked this one, too.”

            “ _Are you even listening to me, Samuel?_ ” Agatha shrieked at him.

            “Yeah, yeah,” Sam started to shrug her off.

            She grabbed his backpack, forcing him to turn back around to face her.

            “Don’t you even _start_ with me! Do you have any clue how long I’ve been looking for you? I had to borrow money from my father— _my_ _father_ —just to afford the trip out to this godforsaken place! And then! _Then_ I had to wander around like a fucking idiot with a photo, asking complete strangers if they’d seen you! And I had to explain that, no, I didn’t lose my little brother, and no, I sure _as hell_ didn’t lose my boyfriend. Like hell! No, I had to explain to every other person I met that I had to go chasing after my neighbor’s kid because he’s too dim-witted to remember how postage works!” She raised an arm, apparently poised to strike him. “And, when I finally find you, you fall on top of me and—!”

            “Ya!” A gentle voice cut her rant off.

            Agatha turned slightly, lowering her arm, to face the Yamask behind her. He was holding up a carved, dark wood walking staff.

            “Thank you, dear.” Agatha’s demeanor sweetened instantly. She took the staff from him and gave him a gentle pat on the head. “You’re a gem.” She turned back to Sam, her expression hardening again. He flinched instinctively. “You’re lucky I’m rather fond of this staff. I’d beat some sense into you with it, but I don’t want it snapping against your thick skull.”

            “I’m really sorry you had to come all the way out here to find me,” Sam said in a low voice, scratching at the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact.

            “Don’t apologize to me.” Agatha turned away. “Apologize to your mother. It’s hard enough that your brothers are uncaring assholes who never keep in contact; you’re supposed to be the good son. You might try acting like it.”

            “Aggie, I—!”

            “Don’t call me that!” Agatha snapped, raising her staff threateningly. “We’re not little kids anymore, Samuel!”

            “I just—!” Sam raised his voice in response. His shout was cut short, however, by something barreling into his back. He cried out as he fell face-first to the ground again. He pushed himself up off the ground, coughing as he spit out chunks of dirt.

            “What the hell?” Agatha said, grabbing Sam by the arm and forcing him back to his feet.

            “Who?” Sam turned to see who had barreled into him.

            A young girl—likely no older than thirteen—was barely standing, trembling violently. The lower edges of her sea green dress were frayed and slightly torn, unlike her vest, blue with orange detailing, even though neither seemed to quite fit her right. Her feet were bare, with some minor cuts and bruising. Her long, black hair was loose, mildly frazzled—likely from the run. She looked quickly back and forth between Sam and Agatha, her golden-brown eyes wide with fear. A yellow-and-red, mustelid Pokémon was clenching desperately to her shoulder. A deep, ragged scar ran across one side of its face. Sam couldn’t remember for sure, but he was fairly certain it was called a Mienfoo.

            “Are you okay?” Sam asked.

            She grabbed the Mienfoo and pulled it forward, holding it against her chest.

            “Can we help you?” He said in as calm and slow of a tone as he could.

            “What is your name?” Agatha asked. “Where did you come from? Why are you running?”

            “Agatha,” Sam said in mild irritation, looking back at her. He looked back at the younger girl, his expression softening again. “We’re not going to hurt you. We’re Trainers. We can help you.”

            “My—my name i-is…” she stammered. “My n-name is Ca—Calyn.”

            “Alright,” Sam said with a nod. “I’m Sam, and this is Agatha. Why are you running?”

            “Poachers.” She said forcefully. “Zila and I ran into them. They were trying to capture some big, brown Pokémon I’d never seen before. I got scared and ran.”

            “Did anyone see you?” Sam asked.

            “I—I don’t know.” Calyn stammered, snuggling her Mienfoo closer. “May-maybe. I didn’t—didn’t….”

            “It’s alright, just try to calm down.” Sam hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get you someplace safe, and then we’ll have the police take care of the poachers.”

            “Samuel,” Agatha said sharply. She grabbed him by his shoulder, pulling him with her as she walked a few feet from the girl.

            “What?” He hissed at her.

            “I don’t trust this kid,” she said, low enough that only he could hear.

            “Why?” Sam responded at the same volume. “She’s clearly terrified. She just wants to help a Pokémon in danger. Why—?”

            “That Mienfoo. Her scar, her cold stare, it—it’s unsettling. I don’t trust either of them. We can take her to the police if you want, but don’t get involved any further with these supposed poachers.”

            “You’re asking me to turn my back on someone, _and_ a Pokémon?” Sam stared at her. “I can’t do that; you know I can’t.”

            “Then do it without me,” Agatha said, letting him go. “I won’t get myself or my Pokémon hurt over some stranger I don’t know and my instincts don’t trust.” She started to storm off into the woods, the opposite direction Calyn had come from. Yamask looked briefly at Sam, before floating off after its Trainer.

            “Agatha?” Sam called after her. “Wait.”

            “I’m not debating this, Oak!” She yelled back, as she vanished completely into the undergrowth.

            “Aggie…” Sam sighed.

            “Are you not going to help?” Calyn asked, her voice cracking.

            “ _I’m_ going to help.” Sam turned to her. “I know you’re scared, but can you take me to where I can get a safe look at these poachers?”

 

…

…

 

“I know this one,” Sam whispered, carefully lowering the shrub’s branches to get a better look past it. “I saw this Pokémon in a book at the library. It’s a Legendary.”

            “Its name is Terrakion,” Calyn identified the grey-and-brown quadruped several dozen yards away, down in a slight meadow valley on the outskirts of the forest. The horned bovine Pokémon was fighting against at least twenty leather-clad poachers and their Pokémon, and seemed to be holding his own against them. “They’ve been trying to bring it down for at least a few hours. It’s been fighting back, but it can’t last much longer.”

            “Well,” Sam said with a grin, “I’m a more than decent Trainer. I should be able to hold them off long enough for Terrakion to escape.” He reached back into his pack and pulled out a strange-looking, solid green Pokéball with minor detailing in red and yellow, and a much more normal-looking Safari Ball. “I think these two will be good.”

            Calyn grabbed his arm.

            “Are you insane?” She breathed. “They’ll just hurt you, too! They have guns; you could be killed!”

            “Wouldn’t be the first time I ran straight into danger,” Sam said with a light chuckle. “Wouldn’t even be the first time I put my life at risk for a Legendary.” He pulled gently out of her grasp. “You stay here, out of sight. If something _does_ happen to me, then quickly and quietly go back to town and get the police.” He took a step towards the fight, before stopping. He half-turned back. “And, if you find Agatha, tell her that I…that I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath, before returning to his charge. He tossed the ’Balls as he ran down into the valley. “Kanga! Drago! Give our friend some cover! Mega Punch! Dragon Rage!”

            A Kangaskhan and Dragonair materialized in bursts of red light. They obeyed their orders, fighting against the poachers’ Pokémon. They managed to give Sam enough of a gap to run up to Terrakion, who now had a free moment to catch his breath.

            “Are you okay?” Same hesitantly placed one hand on the Pokémon’s front shoulder.

            Terrakion looked at him.

            _Child_ , his voice echoed in Sam’s head. _I thank you for the assistance, but you must escape. These poachers and their Pokémon are savage; they will kill you without a second thought._

            “Fortunately, I’m a little hard to kill.” Sam gave another chuckle.

            _No, you must go! Now! Before it’s—!_

            Before the Legendary could finish the thought, Sam felt something sharp jab him in the shoulder. He looked at it, finding a dart protruding from his upper arm.

            “What?” He blinked at it. He felt his legs grow heavy, and slowly stumbled to his knees before falling the rest of the way to the ground. His head buzzed and his vision swirled and darkened. “A tranquilizer dart? But…?” _But, why wouldn’t they have used it on Terrakion before? Why me? Unless…?_

            “Grab him!” A female voice yelled out.

            Sam felt a Vine Whip attack wrapped around him, but was too paralyzed to fight it as it dragged him backwards. He was lying on his side, barely able to see his Pokémon as they watched in horror.

            _No!_ Terrkion’s voice echoed as it let out a frustrated roar.

            “Finally!” He felt a foot rest on top of his side. “Now, stand down! Or this kid gets it!”

            Sam tried to look up at his captor, but all he could see in his peripheral vision was the barrel of a gun pointed straight at his head.

            _Shit._

            The valley echoed with the sound of the gun cocking.

            “Three!” The poacher yelled. “Two!”

            _All right!_ Terrakion bowed his head. _Just…don’t kill the child._

            “The other two will come quietly, as well,” the poacher continued, her voice level. “If any of you make even a single move we don’t like, I blow the kid’s head off.”

            _Were they…counting on someone trying to save Terrakion?_ Sam’s mind raced.

            He saw a Mienfoo walk in front of his face, glaring right at him. A Mienfoo with a long scar on its face.

            _Zila? But, that would mean…_

            His realization was cut short by the tranquilizer’s drugs pulling him into complete darkness.

 

…

…

 

Sam gradually came to, his head throbbing.

            “What…what happened?” He rubbed at his temples, stopping sharply at the sound of metallic clanking. He looked at his wrists. They were loosely chained together in a set of shackles, allowing him minor movement. His ankles were similarly bound, the chain probably long enough to permit walking, but certainly too short to allow for any real speed. He looked around him.

            He was in a cell, in an entirely metal building. His backpack and other belongings sat in the cell across from his. Drago and Kanga were also in the cell with his pack, solidly restrained in multiple devices against the wall. In Sam’s cell, he found a small Pokémon cage containing Kanga’s baby, and—

            “Terrakion!” Sam breathed. “Why?”

            _They were going to hurt you._ The Legendary Pokémon gently butted his head against the teenage boy. _I couldn’t let them harm a child. Especially one that was so willing to risk themselves for my sake._

            “And,” a familiar voice announced the arrival of a figure just outside the cell, “I was beginning to think that we weren’t going to be able to bring him in without causing lasting injury. That would have been counterproductive to my plans.”

            Sam stared at the girl, surrounded by three of the poachers. Her youth meant that she was dwarfed by her adult minions, but her body language made it utterly clear who was in charge.

            “Calyn?” Sam asked, standing up. “What?”

            “Sort of.” She smirked. “I have used that name a few times.”

            She was no longer in the dress and vest outfit. Instead, she wore a black suit with a white shirt, the jacket open to reveal the entirety of her ice blue tie. Her hair was tied back in a tight braid. Her feet were no longer bare; instead she wore solid, black boots. She held a whip in one hand, its length wrapped loosely around her shoulder. Under her suit’s jacket, Sam could just make out a holster strapped to her side, a handgun nestled safely in it.

            “You tricked me,” Sam finished his realization. “You _wanted_ me to fight, so that you could take me hostage and force Terrakion to surrender.”

            “It never ceases to amuse me how easily people fall for the scared little girl act.” She gave a dry laugh. “Your girlfriend was the first person who I couldn’t sucker, actually.”

            “Agatha?” Sam blinked. “She’s not my girlfriend,” his said calmly.

            “Right,” she didn’t sound interested.

            “Why are you here?” Sam asked. “You tricked me. But why reveal the truth at all?”

            She gave a low, dark laugh.

            “Asserting my superiority, especially mentally, is how I’ve managed to remain in charge, even over men and women that are well over three times my age.”

            “You’re their leader.” It finally sank in to Sam.

            She cracked her whip once, before snapping it at him, wrapping its length around him. She pulled on the whip, dragging him to the front of his cell, bringing his face to the bars, just on the other side from hers.

            “Congratulations, kid,” she said with a laugh. “You got a look under the mask.”


End file.
